


Comfort

by theautomaton



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Happy Birthday Lance, Here's some pain, Langst, Nonbinary Character, Trans Male Character, Who was I kidding of course this would be ShKLance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 22:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11633661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theautomaton/pseuds/theautomaton
Summary: It sounded shallow, but it was important to him. He wanted it back, but not more than he wanted to protect his team.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just projecting my own feelings about myself onto Lance and this is all word barf with no prior planning so it sucks, wasn't beta read and I didn't really make much of an effort to look back at it myself. But I wanted something out for my Pretty Boy's birthday.

Lance liked being feminine but still identified as male. Strangers getting his pronouns wrong the first time never annoyed him, but every time after that where he found himself correcting them again and again licked at the fire of his annoyance until he couldn't handle speaking to them anymore. For some reason, they considered him to be the one "overreacting" or being "too hasty" when it was "honest mistakes".

 

He considered them honest mistakes the first few times, every other time was just honest to god laziness or maliciousness on their part and he didn't want them in his life. People who couldn't offer him even the most common of decencies didn't deserve his prensence gracing them. He loved himself too much to let their behavior drag him down.

 

Well, he used to love himself at least.

 

Getting to the Garrison was his dream come true and all, but came with the sacrifice of his self confidence. A sacrifice he would never make for anything or anyone else but found himself subconsciously giving it up for a carrier.

 

His family wanted to drag him back home when they saw he had cut his hair so short. They all knew for a fact he liked a fringe framing his face, liked to curl it and braid it and only keep the bottom half short. He stopped wearing his piercings, which was a given when in class but he was allowed outside of it and he still didn't wear it.

 

He hardly used makeup, save for when he got the extremely rare blemish or two. Every other time he wore nothing. He was allowed to wear a minimal amount, even his hero Takashi Shirogane was known to wear eyeliner almost everyday. But Lance's energy was depleted, even if he didn't act like it.

 

Makeup always made him feel so good and proud of himself and his face and all the hard work he put into it but the energy drained out of him every time he even tried to pick up a brush, an almost therapeutic act turned chore.

 

His skin care routine, he stuck to. His exercise regimen more strict than it ever had been. His mother cried, mourned the body Lance loved before he had gone off to the Garrison. Honestly? He missed it too, but while "thick thighs save lives" had once been his motto, he couldn't just put his own comfort above getting into fighter class.

 

Getting into fighter class had been bitter sweet. Lance worked so hard, gave up so much, his body, his confidence, his self preservation, and the only reason he had gotten in was because another student, a student he had promised himself to beat when he saw them at the top of simulation boards (but the bottom of written tests, he was at the top of those), and now they were gone, left Lance to wallow in their shadow and be constantly reminded that the only reason he was there at all was because they left.

 

Meeting the Blue Lion, going off into outer space.... he had believed it would be his chance to find himself once more, the self he left behind, but it wasn't. It was war. Lance couldn't waste the time trying to be comfortable again. He needed to fight, his old body could wait. His makeup, his nails, his hair, they could all wait. All he needed to do was fight. So what if looking at mirrors made him scrunch up his nose in disgust because who looked back at him wasn't him? This was war. His feelings were irrelevant. Especially feelings about his physical appearance.

 

It sounded shallow, but it was important to him. He wanted it back, but not more than he wanted to protect his team.

 

* * *

 

 

They're all at a ball when it happens. The alien race they had just freed giving them food and drinks, eager to celebrate their new found freedom when one of the aliens brushes odd, suction cup like fingers across his cheek. It was a gentle touch, Lance had been cooing at them about how lovely he thought their coloring was all throughout the night, and it was a gesture to return the affections even in the smallest ways.

 

But Lance watched, horrified, as they fell to the floor in a mass of flailing limbs and high pitched whines.

 

"I'm so sorry!" Were the first words out of his mouth,  even though Lance was fairly sure he hadn't done anything. 

 

The aliens crowded in and Lance had to squeeze away and watch as the one he'd been flirting with thrashed around on the ground before going still and curled up. Still breathing, always breathing, that was good. At least he hadn't witnessed a death by his hand of the people they tried so hard to protect. 

 

"What happened?" Keith asked, turning to Lance, expression warring between accusatory and curiosity.

 

"No clue." He replied, hands going up in a placating motion as the leader of the alien people made their way toward them.

 

"It is fine paladins, not your fault. We are a very empathetic race, some of us can feel the pain others feel in our very beings. Our condolences to the blue paladin." They bowed deeply before Lance, and had this been any other situation Lance would soak in the attention but right then there was nothing short of horror and dread in his blood, making it run cold, and not in the way his lion did.

 

No pleasant chill, just biting and unforgiving under his skin and he flinched away fron the gazes of his team members, bowing in return hastily before making a break for the castle and his room.

 

Lance didn't need their pity. It was shallow, it was ridiculous, there was so much going on and he cried himself to sleep about his looks. It wasn't as important as the war they were in, the war they had to win, with or without him.

 

His comfort was irrelevant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just want to talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bullshitting at this point this is just all me projecting

“Lance, we just wish to talk.” He was only mildly surprised it was Allura who spoke up first at his door. They knew he wouldn’t deny her anything, why were they like this? He just needed some time alone, to tell himself over and over that he was still the same person even if his mirrors kept telling him otherwise.

_“You pass so well now!”_   
_He remembered that voice telling him so when he visited his family in Cuba, it was a girl he used to be just a little bit in love with, but the lingering affection poured away like sand through his fingers at those words, making his lip curl._   
_She didn’t stop._   
_“I’d totally date you now. Before it was hard since you were so girly but if you’re still interested?”_   
_Lance could only raise a brow incredulously. Back then he was being true to himself, he liked everything about himself when he was “girly”, that was who he was. What he had become was a hollow version of himself, his confidence and flirting were nothing but a desperate attempt at regaining some semblance of normality in the downward spiral he created for himself. For the sake of piloting, of all things. Pathetic._   
_“Sorry, Clara. That ship has sailed.” It has sunk, he wanted to say, but didn’t._   
_Clara huffed and turned her back on him and he bitterly pictured himself walking away from what he had become as well._

Lance got up from his bed and rubbed at his face hard, trying to will the memories and images away. He opened and wasn’t surprised at all to see the others crowded around Allura, staring back at him worriedly. “Look, guys, just give me a minute and I’ll be back to my old self.” The fake self he created to cope. He didn’t say that.

Before he could close the door, Keith’s boot was there, staring at him determinedly. “Lance, if something’s bothering you, you can tell us. You know that.”

Did he? Their problems were so much more than his. He was breaking down over not being able to paint his god damn nails, over his legs being too thin and his jaw looking too sharp. He cried about his hair for thirty minutes once.

Pathetic.

Surely, they would think so too.

Lance sighed and leaned on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and legs crossed at the ankle, “It’s really not that big of a deal.”

Hunk raised a hand as if he were in class, being polite to their professor to speak up. It reminded him how young they all were and reminded him he wasn’t the only one holding the literal universe on his shoulders. “Buddy, that alien-“

“Techtlik, their name was Techtlik.”

“Right,” Hunk conceded before continuing, “They were in a lot of pain just from touching you. It must have been serious.”

Lance sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, checking his hand out of habit to make sure he hadn’t rubbed anything off but of course, he wasn’t wearing anything so that wasn’t a worry. He flexed his hand, “It’s not even that bad, it shouldn’t matter.”

Pidge stepped forward and shoved Lance back into his room, reminding him of his younger siblings, kind of stung because he remembered how they all would play with his hair when he was getting ready, making him take even longer. He remembered how upset his youngest sister was when he cut it and she couldn’t braid it anymore for him.  
“I am not leaving until you spill.”

His chest tightened, staring at them for a bit and seeing his older sister, Andrea, threatening to staple herself to his wall if he didn’t tell her what was going on. Lance flipped and fell onto his bed face first so he could groan into his pillow. He didn’t have to look up to know everyone was steadily filing into his room now and waiting for his response.

“I hate my body.” He said and could practically feel Pidge flinch from their spot next to the bed and felt it dip, too heavy to be Pidge, Keith or either of the Alteans, but too light for Hunk. He flipped over to see Shiro reaching with his flesh hand to pet at Lance’s hair.

“Lance, I know I don’t know much about dysphoria, but I can reassure you you’re a handsome man at least.”

Lance frowned at him and slapped his hand away, flipping back over to avoid the look of hurt he knows flashes on his leader’s face. “That’s quite literally the opposite of the problem.”

Shiro’s hand hesitated now, brow furrowing, “Do you… want to be a woman? Or identify as something else?”

The blue paladin shoved his face more firmly into his pillow, holding back a screech. This was like when he tried explaining to his dad. His mother got it almost instantly but he practically had to lead his father to it with a hand in his. “Shiro, have you ever seen me when I was younger?”

“Uh-“

“No, is the answer. You were too busy with Matt Holt and Keith to see anyone else really.” Lance cut him off easily, sitting up. This was the annoyance that licked at him like flames, he was so on edge even one wrong comment had him bristling when typically, it took quite a few before he was snapping. “I was actually really hot. Had a bit of a rounder face but my jaw was defined, I was a little less bone thin like I am now. Had big thighs and a good butt and a pudgy belly and I looked cute, I loved myself. Now, I’m a god damn twig but if I don’t keep up the training I’m basically useless to all of you, and I have no time for more aesthetic exercises because all I need is to hold a gun up and drive a metal cat.”

He breathed deep as Coran taught him, putting up a hand to cut said Altean off when he tried to tell him to calm himself.

“I was healthy too. I was healthy, I looked good, I did my makeup and nails and I was happy. But being healthy and happy doesn’t make you a pilot, I had to give that all up, lose what weight I had and turn into some… spindly thing. I even cut my hair man. I’m still a guy, all the way, but I miss being that guy.” He threw his hands up, “When I play flirted with people they laughed along, now I’m just a desperate fuckboy to everyone I meet and compliment.”

Pidge’s brow furrowed, “You mean you’re not actually flirting with Allura and everyone else?”

Hunk flipped a hand around, “Oh yeah I knew that. He has never been serious about anyone he flirts with. It’s just how he makes friends usually. The first words he ever said to me were _Aren’t you just daddy material? I’d let you spank me any day._ ”

Keith and Shiro’s faces light up in red and Lance finds it in himself to high five Hunk.

“How do you know I’m still not totally up for being spanked?” Pidge gags and Coran just looks more and more confused.

“Is this… a human thing?” the Altean man tries and Allura covers her mouth. She hung around enough with the paladins to know some things.

Lance just waves the question away with a promise of an explanation later on, “Anyway, I hate myself just because of that. It’s not important, I’m just little dumb stuff get to me.”

“Lance, it bothers you. I feel it is important.” Allura said, hand sliding away from her mouth to rest against her cheek. “I may not understand, what with Alteans choosing the bodies we prefer, but I feel everyone deserves to be comfortable in their skin.”

Everyone in the room nods and Lance feels like he’s going to cry, “I love you guys.” He manages and Pidge, Hunk and Coran coo at him, throwing arms around him and pushing past Shiro for more room.

In a few minutes they’re all a pile of bodies, suffocating Lance beneath them all, quietly offering comfort against him.

“So,” Coran began, arms wrapped around one of Lance’s legs, “What’s this about spanking?”

Lance laughs so hard he dislodges Pidge from their perch on his chest.


End file.
